It's amazing to me how quickly the quality of European television declines after twelve o'clock. I was flipping through channels fifteen minutes ago, having stopped for a second or two on the game channel—TWO gold envelopes for you (with ??? money) if you solve our stupidly simple puzzle and can afford calling twenty-six times to get through...at 49 cents a pop—and ran across what is a normal channel in the daytime, but what apparently turns into a cheap porn channel at night. For free. How thoughtful of the German program consultants to bombard our homes with such lovely images.
This one was apparently strip bowling. I only caught a glance for about five seconds, but it saddened me. The recording was cheap and soap-ish, and the woman was just your run of the mill XX star, with bottled, permed blonde hair and an airbrushed figure. There's a mask on her face as she goes through the motions of the trade; casting seductive glances, running her fingers through her hair, playing with the buttons on her designer clothes. Her eyes are empty. I can only presume it's because all respect she has for herself is gone...she has tossed it away. Or maybe it just slipped through her fingers like the shirt that she just took off. What brought you to this, beloved? Was there really no other way for you?
She tosses the bowling ball down the alley, and the ball knocks down the two corner pins. The shot was cut in the middle. She's in a studio, not a bowling alley. She's throwing the ball into some cheap mattress, or maybe a basket. The shots of the bowling pins are canned...probably the same from last month's bowling striptease. She wasn't in that one, and she won't be in the next one either. There's always someone to take your place in that business.
It makes me feel a bit empty inside, though. She doesn't even get to bowl.
